Dead Gardens
by Senynith
Summary: What happens after a war of epic proportions? Few dragons and Riders are left, elves are sparse, will the world rebuild itself? A short story that takes place after the events of the Inheritance Trilogy.


**Inheritance Trilogy One-Shot – Dead Gardens**

_The story behind the painting I drew is already told _

_No more tearstains on the pages of my diary _

_Tired but unable to give up since I'm_

_Responsible for the lives I saved _

_The play is done _

_The curtain's down _

_All the tales are told _

_All the orchids gone _

_Lost in my own world _

_Now I care for dead gardens _

_My song is little worth anymore _

_Time to lay this weary pen aside _

_Where are the wolves, the underwater moon_

_The Elvenpath, the haven of youth_

_Lagoons of the starlit sea _

_Have I felt enough for one man's deed?_

_Or is it time to challenge the Ancient of Days _

_And let the virgin conceive _

_--Nightwish_

What was once a mighty forest was now a desolate land. A place of death and past destruction.

For leagues, all that could be seen was felled trees, homes, lives. The ground was stained in crimson blood; bodies lay destroyed by magic or iron.

He fell to his knees and howled a dirge in the ancient language. His kin were destroyed, his home was destroyed, HE was destroyed. Was there anyone left? He doubted it.

The air stank, like the magic that desecrated them, along with the rotting corpses. He hated it, hated the smell. Rancid and putrid, preventing him from thinking. With a simple spell, he managed to clear the air around his face.

A wisp of smoke rose into the air on the horizon. Maybe some survivors made camp. With what little hope he had left, he limped in the direction of the smoke.

What had caused this terrible war? He was born during it, and only knew hiding and fighting his whole life. Sometimes, he would hide for a year whilst teachers taught him the things that elves needed to know. He was young for an elf – a mere 115 years old. War was his life, it was all he knew. He was trained in magic, but only as much as a human might know.

_Human,_ he spat on the ground. THEY caused the war. But how could they have fought against elven magic? He had heard the tales of King Palancar, Du Fyrn Skulblaka, and the like. Humans were weak unless they had a dragon to ride. The Riders were against them? Never! That happened five millennia ago! It could never happen again… could it?

"Luna!" A voice cut into his thoughts. "Luna, letta!"

He stopped as the plea had asked him. Turning around, he noticed a female elf – garbed in mages clothes – running towards him.

"Aelí! You are alive!" Luna briefly felt elated for the first time since the war had ended.

Aelí literal ran right into him and hugged him fiercely, "I thought you were stationed farther away and might have died!" She was tearing up – unusual for an elf.

"Wyrda must have brought us together," Luna broke the embrace, "Are you alright?"

"No injuries I couldn't heal myself. How about you?"

"I can handle it. You need your strength if another of those freakish waves comes." He adjusted his helmet.

"And so do you," Aelí put her hands on his protected shoulders, "Waíse heill," she murmured.

Luna felt the pain in his leg dissipate, and his bone become whole again, "Thank you."

"Where are you headed?" The sable-haired elf asked.

"There," Luna pointed where the smoke rose.

"I will come."

The two elves trekked through the wreckage, the solitary line of smoke getting close as the day grew on.

Luna couldn't tell if it was day or night; the sky was an ugly mixture of brown and red. Debris from various explosions blotted our the sun, leaving only a messy filter of depressing colors to light the way.

Before long, Luna began to grow unsure that going to the smoke was a good idea. The air started to take on an evil feeling, like a Shade was standing right before them.

"Luna," Aelí said quietly, her first utterance in nearly two hours, "I sense a dragon there."

"Can you speak to it?"

"No, I'm too far away. But close enough to know what is there. A dragon, his Rider, and a human." Her voice was strained.

"We need to hurry."

In wordless agreement, the two elves broke out into a run, careful not to trip over anything. The rest of the way was lined with fallen trees and fallen bodies. Several dragons lay dormant, their once sparkling scales caked in blood and dirt.

Luna removed his helmet and attached it to his belt whilst running. He let his long black and silver hair free. It was stringy with sweat, and it felt good to have his head exposed to the air, repulsive as it was. His hair color was awe-inspiring upon his birth. Silver was his predominant color, with ebony streaks near the front of his face.

Eventually, they came within range to see who was around the fire. The first thing that Luna noticed was the bulk of an emerald dragon. Beside the dragon, was it's elven Rider – Luna figured it was male – and the short form of a human.

Luna reached out with his mind, _Shur'tugal, Eka fricai._

The Rider responded, _Come._

Luna and Aelí arrived to where the group was at and the human put out the fire with a word in ancient tongue.

The Rider greeted them, "Can you be trusted?"

Aelí replied, "We come from the First Division of Mages" – she pointed to herself – "and the Third Division of Swordmasters." She pointed at Luna.

"Welcome, friends," the Rider placed a hand on the green dragon, "I am Nilfäre and this is Finarfin."

The dragon bowed his head slightly in greeting. _Finarfin was still young_, Luna observed, _but not so much Nilfäre_.

The human stood, "I am to be called Lirlista," he said roughly in the ancient language. Luna could not discern his age; humans were somewhat alien to him. "My position is of no importance."

"Fair enough," Luna nodded.

"What happened?" Aelí asked, "Who or what caused such mass destruction? I know that most wizards and mages destroyed everything, but that last wave. It was so powerful! Do you know anything about it?"

"A Shade," Nilfäre replied flatly, "A shade has entered the world once again. He is on no anyone's side; he destroys alone."

Luna felt dismayed. If the five of them were the only ones left from the war, they suely could not go up against a Shade.

"We have to leave," Lirlista said, "We have to go to Surda."

"Surda is leagues away! Hundreds! Thousands!" Luna threw up his arms, mail rustling under his armor, "How do we make it there with a Shade on the loose? And no food! I might as well kill me now!"

Finarfin stood, startling Luna, and stared right at him, _There are others out there. More of my kin. We must find them, and fly to Surda. They are large enough to carry many an elf._ The dragon broadcast the message to everyone there.

"Finarfin speaks truth," Nilfare said, hopping onto his dragon's back, "Keep your minds open but don't broadcast; the Shade might hear you. If there's any danger, I'll warn you." With that, the green beast took to the air with a puff of wind.

"I don't think Finarfin is as old as he appears," Luna said, thinking aloud.

"He is small for his age, true," Lirlista spoke, "But he is the strongest dragon in mind and strength. Come now, we go." The human started to head in the same direction that the Rider went.

"Luna, do you forget, I can make food for us if we need?" Aelí asked.

"No, I remember," the taller elf put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close. They walked in silence, skirting around dead bodies of elf, dragon, and human. Lirlista kept up with the long strides of the elves, a feat of no insignificance.

"Who are you?" Luna asked, "You know the ancient language, have much strength in the mind, and can keep apace with elves."

Lirlista smiled almost smugly, "I am blessed. I was blessed by your Queen long passes, Arya. She blessed me with an elven life span and strength. For what reason I will not say. I am… ashamed mostly, to admit it." He ended abruptly and refused to say anymore when Luna would ask.

After three hours of walking and silence, the bodies became fewer. The sky still had an ugly color, and it seemed to get no darker.

They passed a dragon the color of wheat and the size of a small hill.

"What a pity. Sé mor'ranr ono finna," Luna murmered to the leviathan that lay like stone before them.

Aelí broke out into a strange requiem that Luna had not been taught or heard. Her pure voice sang the words clearly and mournfully. To Luna's surprise, Lirlista joined in, his gruff bass voice speaking the words as if he's always sung the song. Luna started to croon the death song he knew in his tenor voice. The two songs grated against each other like two pieces of flint, lighting a fire. The song echoed through the sky and the land that had been thrashed. They sand while walking for hours, their voices not even the least bit sore.

Finally, they reached the edge of the war, clear plains beyond them. Finarfin landed and walked beside them, Nilfare on his back.

At last they left Du Weldenvarden.

---


End file.
